


Pebbles

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Rock Hard and Cummintonite [4]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Size Kink, Sort Of, sex and fluff, these characters are so damn domestic and I love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Codas and snippets that don't fit in with the rest of this series.





	Pebbles

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting might change, but for now I'm dumping all of these into this fic as I write them. There will be more as I come up with scenes I want to write that don't fit into the narrative. See what I did with the title? I like to think I'm clever.

“Then I very much look forward to hearing about it when I return,” Harry says, and they can hear him groan as he shifts. “Alright. I’m incredibly stiff in more ways than one, so I’m going to take a shower, have a lovely wank thinking about what sort of things you’re going to do to me when I get home, and then I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Or…” Archy looks at Merlin, pausing just long enough to ensure his advance is expected before straddling his partner’s lap, Merlin’s breath hitching as Archy leans forward and carefully plucks the glasses from his face. “You can put off the wank until after your shower, so Merlin and I have time to send you a little ‘we miss you’ present.”

Merlin’s lips part just a fraction, and Archy almost reaches out to lick into the gap between them, but he reigns in the urge. Over the coms, Harry says, “I like your idea much better.”

He sounds a touch breathless, and Archy laughs. “I thought you might.”

“Go take your shower, love,” Merlin says, and he has that look in his eyes, the one that Archy’s quickly learning to associate with Merlin preparing to take control (not just in bed – he does it when he’s about to insist on a restaurant or scold Harry for doing something stupid too).

The line goes dead with an audible click, and Archy grins. He settles himself more comfortably on top of Merlin, whose jaw clenches like he’s biting back a groan. “How do I turn record on?” Archy asks.

Merlin takes the glasses back from him and does some tapping, then sets them on the table beside his armchair, squinting as he adjusts the angle until neither of them will be cut off. Then he curls his fingers around the back of Archy’s neck and draws him in for a kiss. Archy moans eagerly into it, relaxing against Merlin’s grip and wriggling closer, intentionally grinding down in Merlin’s lap and loving the way it makes Merlin’s swelling cock pulse under him. Merlin’s free hand closes around his hip and tugs him even closer.

The kiss has turned messy, more tongues than lips, and Archy slurps up every little hitch of breath and tiny moan that drops into his mouth as Merlin manhandles him – they’re the same height, roughly the same build, but Merlin has no problem moving Archy exactly where he wants him and it’s much more satisfying to let him.

“Lube,” Merlin demands against his lips.

“Pushy.” But Archy leans back, using his legs to keep himself steady, and reaches towards the side table, trying to avoid blocking the glasses as he yanks open the drawer and pushes the stacks of notepaper aside to reveal the sliding packets of lube underneath. He tosses two at Merlin’s face, just to be petty.

Merlin blinks, and the fingers on the back of his neck turn into nails, and Archy gasps and goes stock still. “That wasn’t very nice,” Merlin says mildly. “Why don’t you apologize?”

Archy blinks, hesitating, because he’s not sure Merlin means a verbal apology. Merlin lifts an eyebrow, waiting, and Archy finally decides, sliding a hand down Merlin’s chest, tilting his head to press soft, sucking kisses above his collar, murmuring, “I’m so very, very sorry. That was rude of me, and you should punish me for it.” The words nearly get caught on his tongue, and it takes a lot of effort not to swallow them back down. They really need to talk more about this, even if Archy is dreading that conversation, but he trusts Merlin, and anyway, he combines the words with finally reaching for Merlin’s cock and squeezing it through his trousers, so he thinks that might be enough of a distraction. He risks a peek, lifting away from Merlin’s neck to check his expression.

Merlin’s hand relaxes again, the pinpricks of his nails disappearing as he says, “I don’t think that will be necessary.” His voice is lower, thicker, and Archy loves his brogue like this. It’s just about the sexiest thing he’s every heard, other than Harry’s hitching little whines when he’s stuffed full of cock. “But if you were really sorry, I think you’d stop teasing me, and Harry,” Merlin glances towards the glasses with a filthy grin, “and take my cock out properly.”

Merlin seems about ready to tear through his trousers, so Archy unsnaps the button and carefully lowers the zipper, pushing the fabric and Merlin’s pants so the elastic band is tucked under his balls, his cock springing free, too heavy with blood to slap up against his stomach. It hangs instead, jutting proudly out from his body, and Archy salivates just a tiny bit, so tempted to go to his knees, if not for Merlin’s grip on him.

Instead, when Merlin passes him a packet of lube, Archy tears it open and slicks his fingers, wrapping them around Merlin’s cock and relishing the struggle to circle it completely. He’s not a size queen, not like Harry, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate how fucking massive Merlin’s cock is, settled snuggly in the border between “makes porn stars weep and men and women swoon” and “that might look reasonably proportional on a small horse.” He’s seen a few men roughly this size, all at the club he used to frequent when he was craving something a bit kinkier than fucking a cute little twink in an alley with their clothes still on (an experience he wouldn’t mind reliving with Harry, who is still remarkable twink-like, despite edging up on sixty years old). He’d never fucked any of them, but he knows, just from being around that life, that bigger doesn’t necessarily mean better. There’s a line between _oh fuck yes that’s massive put it in me_ and a trip to the emergency room, and Merlin is that line, staying on the right side of it only with a _lot_ of attention to prep.

But Archy is less worried about that right now and more worried about angling towards the camera so that Harry can see the way he slides his hand slowly along Merlin’s throbbing erection, tightening his grip when he gets to the base and loosening it with a little twist on the upstroke. Merlin groans in satisfaction, his own hand wrapping around Archy’s to get a little more pressure, and Archy braces himself against the back of the armchair, hand sinking into the squishy cushions, squirming in vain to get some relief on his cock, tenting his own trousers and pressing almost painfully against the zipper.

Merlin rectifies it without a word, removing his hand from Archy’s to unsnap the button, and Archy releases Merlin’s cock and helps his partner free him, his cock slick with precum and angry red as it springs from its fabric prison, and Merlin helps him shuffle forward so they’re pressed as close together as possible without obstructing the view. Archy’s hand is still slick, and Merlin adds to it by opening the other packet of lube and spreading it over his own fingers, their hands twisting together as they grasp their cocks in the same grip, tight and just barely able to circle the both of them. Merlin’s hand is on the back of his neck again, and Archy can’t help but buck up into the touch on both accounts, their joined hands sliding over his cock as it rubs against Merlin’s and the little prick of nails at his nape.

They trade kisses again, less sloppy, more finessed, Merlin’s tongue tracing its familiar map of Archy’s mouth as he claims him thoroughly, and Archy will be shocked if there aren’t faint fingerprint bruises on the back of his neck tomorrow. He’ll have to be careful about his collar at work, but it will be worth it, because there’s heat pooling low in his groin, egged on by Merlin’s little grunts of pleasure against his lips as they work their hands together, stroking up and down their lengths. Archy can feel every throb of Merlin’s cock against his, and it just makes him hotter, shoves him rapidly towards climax just because it’s Merlin and it’s so fucking sexy to hear him, feel him, be so utterly _his_ without Merlin having to say a word.

“’M close,” he mumbles. “Fuck, Merlin, I need…”

He doesn’t know what he needs, but Merlin does. He squeezes a little tighter, tight as they can manage, and guides Archy into a little twist at the end, scraping his teeth along Archy’s neck as he does so until he gets to the base and bites down, sucking hard enough to bruise, and Archy groans and spills over their joined fingers, hardly noticing when Merlin releases his own cock to focus solely on Archy’s, wringing every drop of cum he can from the pulsing length.

Archy pants, and Merlin releases his neck, running his tongue over his teeth to check that he hasn’t broken skin and made Archy bleed. He grins and brings his hand to his lips, licking Archy’s cum off it, and without thinking Archy surges forward before he can swallow, tasting himself in Merlin’s mouth and sharing his seed between them.

Merlin’s hand moves from Archy’s neck to stroke gently at his scalp. “Forgetting something?” he asks, his voice soft but firm.

Archy glances down between them at Merlin’s cock, still hard and weeping, slick and shiny with cum and precum and lube, and he slips from Merlin’s lap to his knees, pressing his lips to the head in an apology kiss. Merlin swears in Gaelic and grips harder at Archy’s hair. Archy doesn’t waste time, just sinks as far as he can onto Merlin’s cock, swallowing around his mouthful and moaning, partially for effect and partially because Merlin tugs at his hair again and it feels surprisingly good.

He can’t get all the way down, but he takes what he can, using his hands for the rest. His jaw hurts already, and he feels pangs of fear skate down his spine every time he bobs, Merlin’s cock nudging at the back of his throat. He knows it’s unfounded – Merlin is stock still, hips not even twitching as he grits his teeth and hangs on – but it’s hard to forget how much he hates being choked, how Merlin is in control here and could do it if he wanted.

“I’m going to come,” Merlin warns him, and Archy can feel it, Merlin’s cock swelling on his tongue as Archy drags it along the underside, sucking harder in response. Merlin’s nails scratch at him. “Archy, pull off or-” He cuts himself off with a string of expletives as Archy looks up at him from under his lashes, defiant and determined, and presses himself as far as he can go, reminding himself that he’s safe as he relaxes his throat and lets the head slip down it, not far, but just enough that when he swallows around it Merlin cries out and comes, and Archy pulls back so it’s on his tongue, the head still in his mouth as he milks Merlin through it.

Merlin’s breath shudders, and he pulls Archy back, cock still dribbling the last pulses of cum. “You were perfect,” he murmurs. “Absolutely perfect.”

Archy feels pride rush over him, both from Merlin’s praise and from the realization that he did it. Not much, but a step in the right direction and oh, he is going to get there no matter how many steps it takes. For now, he turns to the glasses camera and winks, and his voice is rough even to his own ears as he says, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, love,” Merlin echoes, and then reaches over to turn it off. He slides the glasses back on his face, breathing deeply, like he’s trying to steady himself.

“Alright?” Archy asks. He gets up slowly, a little stiff at the knees, and perches on the edge of Merlin’s armchair.

Merlin nods. He huffs a tiny laugh. “It’s been a long day. And I’m worried about Harry. I hate not being the one monitoring him.”

“He’ll be back soon.” Archy doesn’t know if sliding back into Merlin’s lap is appropriate, but he does so anyway, and it’s his turn to curl his fingers around Merlin’s neck, not a possessive gesture but a reassuring one. He presses their foreheads together. “Why don’t you come to bed?”

“I have some work I should finish up-“

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Merlin makes that face, the one Harry told Archy means Merlin’s about to say that something is absolutely urgent even though he doesn’t have to have it done for another two weeks, and Archy heads him off, standing up and holding out his hands. “Bedtime,” he says firmly. “Come on.”

Merlin follows without protest, taking Archy’s hands and letting himself be led to the bedroom. It’s not quite as nice as the one at Harry and Merlin’s, but his bed is big enough for the two of them if they snuggle. As they curl around each other, face to face because spooning feels weird without Harry wriggling into the middle, demanding attention, Archy can’t remember why he ever didn’t like this part of sex: the closeness in the aftermath, the shared comfort of two (or three) people who have opened themselves to one another and found pleasure in it.

Then again, he’s never had anything like this before.

He’s never going to give it up.


End file.
